


The Quiet Side

by monanotlisa



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Femslash, Fitz/Simmons (unrequited), Friendship, Friendship/Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 07:42:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2059719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monanotlisa/pseuds/monanotlisa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a brief snapshot following the events of Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. S01E22, "Beginning of the End."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Quiet Side

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shadowen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowen/gifts).



White-walled corridors and the sharp smell of disinfectant. Skye was pretty sure she should have stronger feelings about the doctors, nurses, and patients around her, or at least the surgery and suffering she was walking past so hurriedly. All she felt was apprehension for her friends. 

Well, that, and the edge of her Macbook slapping into the small of her back with every step. 

People spoke in hushed whispers or angrily raised voices about hospitals. But until very recently when Skye’s body was turned inside-out so unceremoniously, she’d never been a medical facility, never visited a loved one --

“Where are you going, honey?” The nurse’s hair was cut so sharply Skye wouldn’t have dared to touch its silver edges, but her eyes were the warmest brown.

Skye tried to not trip over her feet _or_ her tongue. “Fitz. Leopold Fitz. He’s in 218?”

“Mmh. Down this hallway and turn left; first door.” The nurse jerked her head in the direction she came from. “You can’t miss it.”

 _Try me, lady._ Skye liked to think of herself as the go-to girl in digital mazes but not so much the real kind. So this was cool. She glanced down at the nurse’s tag. “Thank you, Yazmeen.”

When she rounded the corner, she realized what Yazmeen had meant: First, Fitz’s hospital room was an actual suite. Second, it had a guard posted at the door. Tall and white and meaning business, he didn’t let her pass by (the “security” treatment she got often enough). At least her name managed to get Mr. Roboto to tap a device on his wrist in a quick sequence, to stare blankly into space, and to finally usher her inside. 

What had looked like a miniature smartphone had clearly been Jeff Bezos’ wet dream. Skye wasn’t sure how it had identified her -- facial scan wasn’t unlikely, but the angle had been awkward, and okay, no time to think toys-slash-assets, because there was Fitz in the bed, pale and still...if not alone.

“Jemma,” she said, and it came out not how she’d wanted it to sound, not by half. But Jemma smiled and pushed herself up from the chair by Fitz’s bedside. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her usual state of artful professorial dishevelment looked a lot less so today. She still managed to brighten even this room. 

Skye didn’t remember crossing the space between their bodies, but she must have, because Jemma’s arms went around her, thin but strong. “Skye, so good to see you.” _Likewise_ , Skye thought, but she was too busy holding Jemma -- just holding her, not holding her up. Or possibly in a very mutual way only. The curve of Jemma’s neck was right there, and Skye breathed her in, scent warm and familiar and more than a little thrilling. The tight feeling in her chest eased up, and the knot in her throat dissipated. This wasn’t the best time for it, but then again Skye’s crushes never were convenient.

“How is he?” Skye let go, a little regretfully, and even here and now it was weirdly gratifying to see Jemma also draw back without any urgency.

“Unchanged.” If that too was a smile, it was the kind the word ‘rueful’ was invented for. “Anoxic encephalopathy may include a prolonged vegetative state.” Jemma’s voice drifted into lecture mode, flattening, but Skye wasn’t a total idiot; Jemma was the most -- the most _feeling_ agent of them all. 

“Did the doctors say anything about his outlook?”

“That it would depend on a variety of factors, such as baseline health, sex, age, cause of the cerebral hypoxia, overall time of oxygen deprivation, duration of emergency procedures, body temperature drop, elevated intracranial pressure, concurrent respiratory failure, and brain imaging findings.”

Damn. Gingerly, Skye stepped up to Fitz’ left side. His shoulders and arms lay above the covers. His hands on the thin sheets were perfectly motionless. _Fitz’ _hands, motionless.__

“You can touch him, you know.” Jemma bit her lower lip. 

Made sense as far as Doctor’s Orders went. ”Oh, something tactile to stimulate Fitz’ brain?” His left hand was cold, but that only made Skye grasp his hand more firmly: Cradled in both her hands, she could feel her warmth slowly seeping into his fingers. 

“No, just -- he’d like that.” A small crease appeared on Jemma’s forehead. “He likes you.”

Truth. Then again, Fitz was a quintessential geek boy; he liked more than one person on the Bus, and Skye wouldn’t put any bets on him drawing the line at the ladies. But there was _like_ , and there was more.

“Jemma, so.” Skye softened her voice, “Can you get us something to eat down in the cafeteria?” Skye hoped to fucking God that there was such a thing; she wanted Jemma to take a breath, and a bite or three.

Skye saw her hesitate and was ready for it. “Don’t worry, I’ll hold the fort with Fitz. We’ve got this.”

As hoped for, Jemma managed a weak smile. Always willing to humor her friends. “Sure.” 

When the door closed behind her, Skye exhaled. Very gently, she placed Fitz’ hand back on the cover and placed her Macbook right next to it. Time to save the boy: time for her own fingers to pick up the slack. Forty-seven seconds, and she had made her way into the wireless network, boosting her connectivity as to download and tinker with a few little helpers. The hospital mainframe should have been locked away safely, but of course it wasn’t. “Hello, HIPAA,” she murmured. There he was: _Fitz, Leopold._ Skye didn’t doubt that Jemma could repeat to a t what the doctors had told her...just, that was what the doctors had told her.

A few more clicks and swipes, and the files were safely stored on her hard-drive, backed up in the cloud, and if Skye had had more time she would have rummaged for her thumb drive as well. 

She jumped a little when she heard the click of the latch again, closing her baby as fast as she could. Skye would toss Fitz’ data at the Rising Tide, at hacktivist friends, other avenues. Having S.H.I.E.L.D. power and knowledge at her fingertips was one thing; the H.Y.D.R.A. shackles they came with were another. Second opinions were important. Fitz’ life was at stake.

“Hey, I brought us some food.” Jemma seemed a little more alive, cheeks flushed. Skye smiled way too widely at her balancing a tray in front of her, two sandwiches with tomatoes peeking out, plus green jell-o cups and three bananas. British schools clearly believed in food groups across the color spectrum for God and country and the like. 

“Great!” How come Skye’d been able to play-pretend in a life-or-death situation but was flunking this one?

Jemma hesitated. “Is everything fine?” She wasn’t stupid; she quickly scanned not only Skye but the room too, Fitz in his bed.

“I am, and so’s boyfriend in a coma here.” Sometimes, Skye hated her brain. “Jemma, I’m so -- I know that’s really messed up.”

Skye was surprised when Jemma laughed, but then again, it came out more than a little like a sob. “No, it...it is half-right, actually.” She blinked, eyes a little too shiny and tray a little too wobbly so Skye moved quickly to take the tray off her hands, shoving it onto the table where it landed and made the sandwiches jump in the air. Skye wasn’t paying particular attention to the food; she was looking at Jemma right in front of her. Skye could count her freckles from where she was standing, or rub that little smudge off her right cheek. There were tiny droplets caught in her lashes. “Before we -- before, he told me he loved me.”

“Oh.” Skye didn’t have to pretend anything here.

“I know.” Jemma looked down. “I mean, not in so many words. But he said it.”

 _And he proved it,_ Skye thought. Just as Jemma had proven she would die for them all: protecting their lives by sacrificing her own. Would Skye have been willing to? Maybe. Able? Very maybe. She thought of Fitz and of Simmons both. “Actions, louder...you know.” 

Jemma snorted, not especially delicately. “Yes, and I keep wondering why I didn’t wonder about his feelings. And then I realize that it wouldn’t have changed anything, not for him. Not for me.” She looked Skye in the eye. “I do love him, you know.”

It wasn’t hard for Skye to reach out again, touch Jemma’s arm and circle it soothingly. “Yeah, I know.” She would be lying if she didn’t want to hear the rest, but Skye was pretty sure where this was going. “He’s your other half.”

“In a manner of speaking.” The muscles in Jemma's throat jumped. "He is rather the most important person in my life; he has been since we started at the Academy. I cannot imagine being a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent without him.”

Skye considered this her cue. “About that…” 

And Jemma listened to her relate her little hacker stunt earlier, her plan of tossing the bait of Fitz’s file the darknet. S.H.I.E.L.D resources were being re-assigned, the game re-shuffled with only fractions of the old pieces on the board. They had to be creative. Nighttime found them grouped around Fitz's bed underneath the light, all the food eaten -- including all bananas. Jemma was sitting on one side of Fitz, one hand on his shoulder, Skye in the other chair, having returned to grasp his hand in hers. Surely Melinda May would could provide yet another rescue, Cavalry or just herself. What about the super-serum that made Captain America; what about the biggest secret of them all, GH325 that had healed two of their team including Skye? 

When Yazmeen came to toss them out, she didn’t in the end. Skye wasn’t sure whether the nurse’s good heart was swayed by Jemma’s quiet resolve or her own pleading eyes -- possibly the true reason was a generous donation to the hospital on part of S.H.I.E.L.D. or its benefactors. Either way, a second bed was rolled into the connected room of the suite with Fitz in the main one, two pillows and thin blankets on top. 

“I hope they clean these beds,” Skye said, shimmying out of her sweater, shoes, and pants and hopping under the covers. “Catching flesh-eating bacteria would really cramp our style.”

“Flesh-eating bacteria I can cure.” Soft, confident. Jemma stepped out of the bathroom, face freshly scrubbed. She disappeared into the main room one last time, then returned, shoulders sagging a little. Skye felt a pang when the bed dipped under her weight. Jemma wore nothing but a tank top, white or light blue or some other shade that didn’t matter. Skye was of the distinct opinion people shouldn’t be able to look this good. Or, fine, they should. As long as Skye could watch them. “But the brain is a different matter.”

“More gray,” Skye murmured, and was rewarded with another choked-off yet sweet sound from Jemma, who burrowed under the covers. 

On her own pillow, Jemma faced Skye. She was close enough to breathe the same air. “Skye...you weren’t surprised about my feelings for Fitz. Well, that they were friendly, I mean. Mates, if lifemates.”

Girl talk. That Skye could do. With a lot of concentration and memories of high school movies. “Not really.” Wishful thinking on her part, probably, but. “I also saw Trip was pretty into you, and you seemed to like him?”

“Sure! I mean,” there was that frown again, “we haven’t been acquainted for all that long. He _is_ very competent. And handsome, I suppose.” 

No shit, Sherlock. “Well, we are all meeting up again what, Saturday?”

“Tomorrow, yes. To regroup with the team.” With who was left (who was right). Skye was looking forward to it. But something seemed to still bother Jemma. “Trip is not really the one I’m grateful for, for being around.”

“Oh?” Skye’s heart was hammering in her chest all of a sudden. “Grateful?”

Even in the half-darkness Jemma’s eye-roll was visible. “ _Skye._ ” 

Skye took a deep breath and reached out, not quite blindly because they were already deep in each other’s space, and the bed was so small. This time it was easy, even, to slide her hand along the skin of Jemma’s naked arm, curling around her shoulder, just underneath the tank top. Jemma’s body trembled a little, and her fingers were hot when she tangled them with Skye’s. 

Turned out they were close enough to kiss -- carefully at first, then not so much at all. Skye eventually came up for air, shivering enough for Jemma to smile breathlessly, to stroke her face. “Thanks for being here with me.”

“Likewise. I’d hoped this would happen...under different circumstances.” And how.

“Same here.” Skye thought of the range Jemma’s smiles and soft laughs had. “After the, the jump out of the plane, when you hugged me -- that was it, for me.”

“Yeah.” She remembered, terror cutting through her: not a knife but a sword-blade, and the immense relief that kept her restless for hours afterward, the phantom scent of Jemma in her nose and a sore shoulder from the awkward angle of pulling her to her chest. “We can manage this together. We can.” 

“We will.” Jemma sounded like the woman she was: fearless and fiercely intelligent. Skye simply had to lean in again and brush her lips across Jemma's. 

_Get the girl, save the boy. Help a brave new world with the team afterward._ It was a plan. For tomorrow and all the days it would take.


End file.
